The Wastelands (Part II of the Runner Series)

Chapter 7

The airship levels out and the pilots fiddle with the navigation panel, turning dials and flipping switches. There is a shudder and a mechanical whirring sounds from the back of the ship. I turn my head to look behind us, ignoring the disdainful look of the Waster and watching as Phoenix's propellers spin to life, pushing us forward.

Will and the other soldiers unstrap their belts and I follow suit, moving immediately to the front of the ship to lean over the ledge and staring down at the ground flowing below us. We pass over the gates of the City and head West into the desert, the sun at our back as it begins its daily voyage across the sky.

My fingers grip the ledge of the ship as I stare in fascination at the expanse of desert stretching out before us, endless and unwavering. Gigantic, sandy dunes rise and fall, chasing Phoenix in the way I would imagine sea creatures chased the pre-Burn ships sailing across the ocean.

Out of habit I consider the wooden ledge of the ship and the thick ropes running from it up towards the gigantic helium-filled chamber above us. My eyes trace the ship's construction as I plot a climbing path up to its highest point.

"What do you think? Are we flying high enough for you?" Will appears beside me, a brass telescope clutched in his hand.

"We could always be higher." I reply, accepting the telescope when he hands it to me and grinning at the view it offers.

"I don't think you will be satisfied until we scrape the stars."

"I'll let you know if I ever reach them." I hand the telescope back, turning to look at him fully. "So where are we going, exactly?"

"It's hard to say. The Waster camps move daily and we've been out of the field for a while. For now we're following a rumour that there is a main camp further down the riverbed and hopefully we will run into a smaller camp along the way." He looks past me down into the dried-out expanse of flattened desert.

Pre-Burn the river serviced the former city, stretching all the way across the country and down into the ocean beyond. Both the river and the ocean have long-since dried up. Now the river is distinctive only as a cracked surface running alongside the sand dunes, while the ocean exists as an endless salt flat at the end of the earth.

"This is probably the first time someone has hoped to run into a Waster camp." I remark, reclining back with my elbows on the ledge.

A dimple pocks his cheek. "Since we're going to try and meet with them, I would prefer to deal with a smaller group rather than an unknown gathering of Wasters."

"And that's why you're the commander." I glance up, catching sight once again of the Waster tied to his seat at the back of the ship. "Have you tried asking him where we could find some friends?"

Will follows my gaze. "Him? He wouldn't say a word to us. We've tried everything but he's nothing if not determined to distrust us wholeheartedly."

"Maybe I could talk to him."

Will's dark brows shoot up in surprise. "You?"

"What is that supposed to mean?"

He fights unsuccessfully to hide a smirk. "Nothing. Go on over, be my guest."

"I will, thank you." I push myself off the ledge and stroll towards the back of the ship, pasting a look of cool indifference on my face.

The Waster's sharp gaze follows my progress and he watches closely as I lower myself into the seat opposite him, crossing one knee over the other and tilting my head.

We repeat our game of prolonged eye contact and I fight the urge to squirm under his scrutiny, feeling as though his hate-filled eyes could bore a hole straight through me.